


all's well that ends well to end up with you

by elizaham8957



Series: another cinderella story [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, Modern Royalty, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Romance, a sequel to the sorta cinderella au, basically it's just Jon and Dany wanting to escape social events, can you blame them, written for Jonerys week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: Tonight, though— well, tonight Jon knows the gardens hold something else in them, something significant and heady and yes, maybe he’s a little nervous.But he doesn’t have to worry about that right now. Right now all he has to worry about is watching his beautiful, wonderful, incredibly accomplished girlfriend descend the staircase of the grand ballroom to rounds of applause.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: another cinderella story [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1456510
Comments: 31
Kudos: 170





	all's well that ends well to end up with you

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYONE. Yes, I disappeared. Yes, I haven't written anything in months. Yes, I still have 2578032947 unread comments I need to respond to in my inbox. I am sorry; real life sucks. 
> 
> I've been saying I was gonna write this fic for like a year and HERE IT IS, finally. This is a sequel to my modern royalty au I wrote for LAST Jonerys week in 2019 because I'm a terrible person. I told y'all I'd finish it eventually! And honestly I think it's kind of fitting that the sequel is for this year's Jonerys week. This one fits the day 4 prompt of proposals/ marriage/ coronation because it's WHAT OUR KIDS DESERVED. 
> 
> Anyways, this got longer than I thought it would, of course. BIG shoutout to my tumblrinas for sprinting with me and cheerleading for me as I scrambled to write this in two days. Also big shoutout to folklore for actually inspiring me enough to want to write again. 
> 
> I edited this in like 25 minutes during my lunchbreak so it could definitely be more polished but I was sick of looking at it. Please kindly disregard any typos. Also the first chapter of my next multichapter is finished and currently being betaed so SOON I will consistently have more content to post. Thank y'all for hangin' in there with me. Sometimes inspiration is just the worst. 
> 
> Last heads up: there are time jumps in here. Every other scene is a flashback, with scenes in present time in between. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50171206446/in/dateposted-public/)

For the first time in a  _ while,  _ Jon finds himself at a royal function and  _ not  _ wanting to sneak off to the gardens. 

Well, he does, really. He always wants to sneak off to the gardens. Three years now, he’s been attending these parties at the Red Keep, and they still feel too stuffy and uncomfortable, almost as itchy as the collar of his tuxedo. 

(He has his own now, after Robb had reamed him for losing the jacket  _ and  _ getting the pants dirty of his borrowed one during that fated first royal party.) 

The gardens are always a reprieve. The gardens are always empty and peaceful and full of fresh air and perfumed flowers, immaculately manicured. But most importantly, the gardens are where he and Dany can just  _ be,  _ during these things. Not worry about prying eyes and idle gossip. 

There’s plenty of that now that the whole kingdom knows they’re together. A year or so now, their relationship has been public knowledge. And always, these gardens here are an escape for them. 

Tonight, though— well, tonight Jon knows the gardens hold something else in them, something significant and heady and yes, maybe he’s a little nervous. 

But he doesn’t have to worry about that right now. Right now all he has to worry about is watching his beautiful, wonderful, incredibly accomplished girlfriend descend the staircase of the grand ballroom to rounds of applause. 

Jon joins in enthusiastically, smiling up at her from the crowd. She looks beautiful, her brother and his family waiting at the bottom, having just made their descent as well. Generally Dany comes before them, Jon knows— he’s had to process in with her a couple times, which was bloody  _ terrifying—  _ but tonight is for her, so she comes in last. 

Tonight is fairly small in comparison to the importance of other royal social functions. As the bastard of Winterfell, Jon had never paid much attention to social calendars of the royal houses, but now that he’s dating the bloody princess of Westeros, he finds himself at more of these events than even his aunt and uncle. 

Dany’s eyes find him when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, her smile bright and just for him. She gives her brother a kiss on the cheek, her goodsister a hug, before she walks over to him as fast as socially acceptable. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, a hand slipping to her waist, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth. “You look beautiful, love.”

He thinks she chooses her dresses specifically to torture him. This one is backless and all draped chiffon, a dazzling white color that gives him heart palpitations and fantastical thoughts of  _ other  _ white dresses. 

Dany eyes him appraisingly, taking in his crisp tux. He’d attempted to tame his wild curls, binding them back behind his head. It’s partially because they're bloody unruly otherwise, and partly because of the way he can already picture Dany tearing the elastic from his hair later, once they’ve left and he’s gotten her out of her dress. It’s something he can picture from experience, and something that never fails to send a shock of desire through him. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she says, eyes alight and hungry. He exhales sharply, trying to calm his racing heart. As much as he’d like to pull her into some dark corner and have his wicked way with her, tonight all eyes will be on her moreso than usual. This is her event, the fundraiser for her charity. He needs to be on his best behavior tonight. 

Dany, though, never makes that easy. Another thing he’s certain she does on purpose. 

“Congratulations,” he tells her, smiling at her softly. He’s so fucking proud of her for everything she’s done here. From that first night he met her, listened to her ramble about all the things she’d do to change the world if she was allowed to, he’d known she would do incredible things. But to see it all here right in front of them— that’s even more amazing. 

“Thanks,” she says, and the softness of her voice, the way her lips curl up just a little… he knows that’s just for him. Most of the night he knows she’s going to be distracted talking to other people, helping to solicit donations, but this moment right now is just between them. A small bubble of intimate privacy, amongst all these people. 

Dany has that effect on him. Any time he’s with her, the rest of the world fades out a little bit. 

She sighs, and he knows it’s time to start the rounds. He’s become fairly accustomed to it over the past year of publicly being her boyfriend. One of his hands falls to the small of her back, and he nods out at the crowd. 

“Time to go mingle?” he asks, and she smiles at him, shoulders sagging with relief, and the love in her eyes still sends thrills through him. 

“You are the best,” she whispers, leaning into him slightly. “Honestly. I’m sorry; I know how much you hate these things.” 

“Stop it,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, careful not to muss her elegantly styled hair. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, love.” 

She throws one longing glance to the glass doors that lead to the garden, and he snickers under his breath, Dany smiling as she catches him. Jon knows she’s already thinking of escaping out there. 

“Later,” he promises, though the thought fills his stomach with butterflies again. 

“Just so you know,” she whispers, voice wicked, eyes glinting. Her voice is low enough that no one else hears them. “I’ve got lots of big plans for  _ later.”  _

Jon swallows, because he can picture what Dany is planning all too well, and it’s not something he should be thinking about in polite company. 

“Seven hells, woman,” he hisses, trying to get his heartbeat under control. It’s a futile effort, he finds. It always has been with her, from the very first night he met her. 

Dany giggles, as if she’s reading his mind, before taking his hand, leading him into the throng. 

***

Jon doesn’t think he’s ever felt so nervous in his  _ life.  _

Going to the Red Keep amongst his cousins and hundreds of other royal houses partygoers is one thing. Driving up to the castle now, with no one else here but the rulers who inhabit it, is astoundingly terrifying. 

The building looks more formidable in the light of day. Beautiful, of course, but there’s an aura of power to it that makes Jon feel small. Like he doesn’t belong here at all. 

Of course, that part is definitely true. 

He swallows as another set of guards open another set of doors, and then he’s finally inside the great hall, the cavernous room seeming even bigger when it’s mostly empty. Jon lets his eyes dart around the empty hall, taking in all the details that were easily missed during the splendor of the party a few days ago, but then… 

Then he spots her, standing by the dais across the room, looking like an absolute dream, and the room fades from view, the only thing in the entire world that’s in focus Dany. 

Gods, she’s somehow more beautiful than he remembered. 

It’s been five days since the ball, and two and a half since she showed up on his front steps. Jon has to return to school tomorrow, and he probably should be packing, but he can’t bring himself to regret his decision making in this moment. 

It’s only been two days since he saw her, and it’s bloody ridiculous how much he’s missed her in that time. 

Finally, time seems to unfreeze, and they both walk towards each other, the guards returning to their posts and fading back into the background. When he reaches her, Dany’s smile is so brilliant that he can’t help but lean down and kiss her in greeting. 

She sighs contently into his lips, the taste of her just as sweet as he’d remembered. 

“Hi,” she whispers against his mouth when they pull away, and Jon smiles too, a hand coming to rest on her waist. This is their first official date, and they’ve known each other for less than a  _ week,  _ but something inside of him is just certain that this is different. Whatever this is, it is  _ real.  _

“Hi,” he returns, and her eyes take him in hungrily, alight when they meet his. He could get lost in her eyes forever, he thinks. He’s more than willing to test out that theory. 

“Thank you for coming here,” she says, taking his hand and leading him deeper into the castle. She pushes through a door on the side of the chamber he hadn’t even seen, leading them to a much more ordinary looking hallway, the number of guards significantly decreased. 

“I know it’s… a lot,” Dany continues, glancing around the castle as they continue down the hall. “But I can’t go out without a security detail, and if we went anywhere public—” 

“I’d assume tomorrow the tabloids would be filled with stories about the princess and the bastard of Winterfell,” Jon finishes. Dany winces, but there’s no malice in his voice. He’d long ago accepted his place in the social standings of Westeros, and he doesn’t particularly care. Even his cousins have to deal with the media, and Jon is far too private a person to put up with paparazzi everywhere he goes. Being the black sheep of the family, kept out of the public eye when it comes to royal press and events, allows him to live a mostly-normal life, which he’s grateful for. 

“Don’t worry, Dany,” he assures her, squeezing her hand. “I don’t care where we are. I just want to be with you.” 

She turns to look at him, her expression melting, eyes soft and filled with fondness. “Are you sure you’re not usually good with words?” she asks, and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“I’m not, I swear it,” he says, and she laughs as well, pushing open another door and leading him outside. 

This is different than the gardens, though it’s just as impeccably manicured. Gorgeous shrubbery and beautiful flowers dot the small courtyard, the sweet perfume of the blossoms permeating the air. But in the middle— there’s a picturesque white gazebo, a table for two set beneath its peaked roof, and his heart speeds up at the thought of sitting there with her, holding her hand underneath the little table and getting to learn all about her, this woman who impresses him and fascinates him and consumes his every thought. 

“I hope this is okay,” she says, and Jon turns to her, suddenly realizing she’s  _ nervous.  _ Even the first night they met, and when she’d come to find him a few days ago, she’d seemed so fearless, so unshakable. He melts a little, heart quickening as he realizes this is just as important to her as it is to him. 

“This is perfect,” Jon says, leaning over, overwhelmed by the need to kiss her. There are no guards around to see, no one in the whole world except the two of them. Dany hums contently, wrapping her arms around his neck as she presses her body into his, Jon’s tongue sliding against hers leisurely as he tastes her, basks in the warm light she seems to always emit. 

He could stay like this forever, he thinks, and he would never complain. 

“What is it about us and the palace gardens?” Dany asks, smiling as she kisses him again. He drinks her in, hands gripping her waist, remembering how silky her skin had felt beneath his palms, dreaming of that sensation again. 

“I dunno,” Jon tells her, and their foreheads press together as they separate, both of their breathing a little ragged. “But I’m more than willin’ to make it a thing, if you’d like.” 

Dany laughs, the sound like bells, and it sends his heart into overdrive. “Well, if tonight is  _ anything  _ like that first night in the gardens, I’m certainly not going to complain,” she whispers, eyes glinting devilishly, and Jon swallows, remembering just how sweet she had tasted on his tongue as her thighs had clamped around his head. No, he definitely wouldn’t complain about a repeat of that either. 

“I think that can be arranged,” Jon whispers, and she smiles, untangling their arms and leading him to the gazebo. 

“Well,” she says, as he pulls out her chair, leans over to kiss her once more before he takes his own seat, “in that case, this might just be the best first date _ ever.”  _

Jon grins, taking her hand underneath the table, fitting together like puzzle pieces, and already, he knows she’s right. 

***

“It was so good to see you,” Dany says, giving Margaery another hug, leaning in to kiss her grandmother on the cheek, before she takes Jon’s hand and drags him away. 

“We’re almost done,” she promises, and he gives her a little grin, that she knows what he’s thinking without him ever having to say it. “I really am sorry.” 

“Stop apologizin’,” he tells her yet again. “Really, Dany, it’s fine. What else am I goin’ to do?” 

“Go mope in a corner?” she teases, and he chuckles. 

“Go ahead and laugh, but I remember that workin’ out pretty well for me a few years back.” 

She grins again. “For me as well. Although my reasons for moping were that Rhaegar was being an  _ arse,  _ not that I hate social interactions.” 

Jon smiles again, a hand splaying across her bare back. “I don’t  _ completely  _ hate social interactions,” he argues. “Just… not a fan of these parties.” 

Dany pats his arm sympathetically, making a face at him, and he can’t help it, he laughs again. She knows the reasons he hates these events, the way they make his skin crawl and his mind try to convince him he doesn’t belong. But being here with her makes them  _ so  _ much more bearable. 

With her, he always feels like he belongs. 

“I know,” she says, voice softer this time. “You didn’t have to come, you know.” 

He scoffs at that. “Oh, c’mon,” Jon says. “Dany, of course I would have come. First off, I’m bloody proud of you, and I want to be here to celebrate you.” She smiles sweetly at him, and Jon grins wider. “Second, I don’t need any more reason to inflict the scorn of your brother. If I didn’t show I think he would personally hunt me down.” 

Dany laughs at that, squeezing his bicep where her hand is wrapped around it. “You know, my brother’s been  _ surprisingly  _ cordial whenever I bring you up recently.” She looks up at him, gorgeous eyes twinkling. “I suppose you’ve finally managed to win him over.” 

“Hm,” Jon says, looking ahead. “I wonder how I managed to do that.” 

In truth, he knows, but Dany doesn’t. Not yet. A few weeks ago, he’d come here without telling her, and he and Rhaegar had spoken for  _ hours.  _ It had maybe been the most stressful conversation he’d had in his life. 

But they’d left with an understanding between them, a begrudging respect. Jon is still slightly terrified of the man, but at least now they are on a little more even footing. 

“Speaking of,” Dany says, nodding over to her family, at the head of the room. Viserys looks bored to death, Rhaegar deep in conversation with a group of dignitaries, but the queen is waving at the two of them, smile bright. 

Elia has been fond of Jon from the beginning, and Jon suspects that her husband’s begrudging acceptance of his intentions most definitely were influenced by his wife. 

“Seeing as you and Rhaegar are practically best friends now—” Dany starts, and Jon laughs loudly. 

“Alright, I wouldn’t go that far, I don’t think,” he amends, and Dany smiles wickedly. 

“Too bad. I was hoping if we went to say hi, I could finally be done with mingling, and we could go sneak off somewhere. But if not—” she looks off wistfully, trying to fight down a smile. 

“Gods, Dany, you’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you,” he says, and her eyes glint, victorious. “Fine. Let’s go say hi to your brother.” 

“Thank you,” she whispers again, kissing him quickly. Jon doesn’t miss the disapproving look of one of the nobles by them— Stannis Baratheon’s uptight wife, he thinks— but at this point, he doesn’t really give a shit. The tabloids have already ridiculed him enough for things far worse than kissing his girlfriend chastely in public. 

“Stop thankin’ me,” Jon insists, but now he leans closer, mouth grazing her ear. “Save that gratitude for later.” 

He can feel a shiver run through her body, her eyes like liquid fire when they turn on him. A rush of desire shoots through him again, and  _ gods,  _ he wishes they could just abscond from this whole thing now. 

“I’m holding you to that,” she says, voice low. Jon chuckles, squeezing her waist possessively. 

“I’m countin’ on it.” 

***

“Er, Dany,” he says, peering over her shoulder, a hand stroking her waist. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I… don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.” 

“What do you mean?” she says, brows furrowing adorably. 

“It’s, uh…” Jon glances at the saucepan before her again, squinting. “Well, it’s supposed to thicken, aye?” 

She scowls at the pan, prodding at the creamy sauce inside with her spoon. “It is thickening,” she assures him, though Jon’s fairly certain she’s lying to him. 

Nearly six months, they’ve been together now. Jon’s been graduated for three of them, living in his own tiny flat in King’s Landing, a short ride away from where he’s been working at a nonprofit that helps children and families in need in Flea Bottom. When he’d graduated, he wouldn’t have guessed that would be the line of work he’d go into, but he has a feeling that the woman in his arms now has had some influence over that decision. 

Her determination to help people has truly inspired him to try to do the same. 

“At least, I think it is,” she mumbles, and Jon wants to laugh at how decidedly  _ un-princessy  _ she sounds. 

Six months, he’s spent learning as much about Daenerys Targaryen as he possibly can. Six months they’ve spent sneaking in and out of the palace and his apartment, in a blissful bubble from the rest of the world. That immediate intrigue he’d had the night he’d first met her hasn’t faded for a moment— if anything, it’s only strengthened. She challenges him and puzzles him and makes his heart feel close to bursting most days. He’s never known a person like her in his entire life. 

And before her, he’d never known a person who had made it through their entire life without  _ ever  _ cooking before either. 

She’d disclosed that to him last week, sitting perched on his kitchen counter as he’d made them both dinner, her fingers absentmindedly playing with his curls as he’d cooked. Jon had been so shocked that he couldn’t do anything but laugh. He should have known that would only fuel that fiery determination inside her, leading to her announcement tonight, after she’d snuck in his building’s back door with a scarf over her hair and a bag of groceries in her arms, that  _ she  _ would be cooking dinner for them.

The look she’d given him as she said those words reminded him that she was, in fact, raised to be a queen. Sometimes he forgets that he’s dating the woman fourth in line to the throne. Because when he’s with her, she’s not Princess Daenerys. She’s just…  _ Dany.  _

That’s the way he likes it, though. No titles, no family scorn, no bastards or princesses or anything. It’s just them, and that’s what’s most important. It’s worth all the sneaking around, avoiding ever being seen together in public, lest the tabloids pounce. 

She prods at the sauce again halfheartedly, and Jon tightens his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Dany,” he says, pressing a kiss to her neck. “It’s alright, you know. You don’t have to prove anythin’ to me.” 

She tenses in his arms, and for a second he’s afraid he’s royally fucked up. But then she turns, eyes alight, eyebrows raised in shock. 

“I’m not doing this to prove  _ you  _ wrong,” she insists, and even with her fiery expression, he can sense the teasing behind it, making him relax a little. “I’m doing this to prove to  _ myself  _ that I can.” She smiles a bit, and Jon returns the grin, a hand running along her waist. “I’ve learned how to run a bloody  _ kingdom.  _ I can certainly handle making some alfredo as well.” 

“Well,” Jon says, leaning in closer to her, arms wrapping around her, his forehead coming to rest against hers. “I’ve yet to see you fail at anythin’ you put your mind to.” 

He barely gets the words out before Dany’s pushing up onto her toes, leaning up to kiss him. 

Six months, and every time she still tastes as sweet as that first night when he’d kissed her. 

Dany hums into his mouth, her tongue sliding against his own, Jon’s hands holding her tight as he drags her in closer to him. He could get lost in her forever, the warm press of her body up against his, the scrape of her nails down his back as her fingers creep under his shirt, the feel of her heartbeat keeping pace with his. She nips at his bottom lip playfully, making him groan, a hand sliding down to squeeze her gorgeous arse in retaliation. She’s pressed so close that the rest of the world falls out of focus, and she’s the only thing that matters to him. 

They pull away a moment later, breathless and with hearts pounding. Jon keeps an arm around her, his other hand drifting up to cup her face. She smiles at him sweetly, meeting his gaze through her lashes, and the warmth in her eyes— gods, he can’t take it. He feels like he might burst with how much he feels for her. 

“Dany,” he says, heart in his throat. He hasn’t told her yet, but— it’s all he wants in the world, right now. For her to know. 

She hums in response, her thumbs tracing patterns on his skin, her hands still under his shirt. He exhales, searching her eyes, gathering his courage. 

“I love you,” he says, and her eyes widen, lips falling open in surprise. But then she smiles,  _ so  _ sweetly, and his doubts fade like smoke. 

“You do?” she asks, and Jon could laugh at how surprised she sounds. How could he  _ not  _ love her? She’s… she’s incredible. She’s everything. 

“Aye, I do,” Jon tells her. Her eyes brighten, before she’s rising up again, kissing him desperately. 

“I love you too,” she whispers against his lips, and  _ oh,  _ it all makes sense then, every love song he’s ever heard, why people will do anything or risk anything for this feeling. Because the way those words sound on Dany’s lips, he’s sure he would go and fetch the moon for her without any hesitation, if only she asked. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and Jon doesn’t think he’s ever smiled so wide. She nods, almost shyly, but then he leans down to kiss her, and her fire is back in an instant. 

He loves that most about Dany. She’s not afraid to show him every side of herself. 

Jon gathers her up in his arms, lifting her onto the counter as she laughs against his lips. Her fingers card through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, making shivers run down his spine. She kisses him greedily, Jon all too happy to give himself over to her, pulling her closer in his arms as her legs part and wrap around him. 

The sweetness of her mouth still leaves him breathless, even now. 

Jon could never tire of being wrapped up in Dany, the feeling of her silky skin against his hands, the warmth of her body pressed against his. The way she sighs into his mouth as he kisses her. The scent of her moonbeam curls, like lemon and exotic spices. The way her eyes shine when she looks at him. 

_ Gods,  _ he loves her. 

And she loves him. 

It sends a thrill through him again, the truth of her words not entirely having sunk in. But she  _ does,  _ and it’s the best bloody thing that’s ever happened to him, being loved by her. He’s sure of it. 

He kisses her back fervently, hands roaming over her body, creeping below her shirt. Dany smirks against his lips, nipping at one playfully as her own hands race down his back, squeezing his arse appreciatively, making him groan. He’s about to pull her hands off of his so that he can pull her shirt off of her when all of a sudden something hisses, the unmistakable smoky scent of something burning flooding his nostrils. 

_ “Shit!”  _ Dany yelps, pushing him back with small, insistent hands, hopping off the counter and dashing to the stove. Her sauce is boiling over, sizzling as it hits the burner and blackens. 

Jon pries open the kitchen window before his smoke alarm can go off, Dany coughing as she moves the saucepan off the burner. “How bad is it?” 

“Er…” Dany says, trailing off. “I’m, uh… not sure if it’s salvageable.” Jon returns to her side, a hand dropping to her waist as he peers over her shoulder, her sauce having thickened to a clumpy burned mess. 

He can tell she’s much more upset about it than she’s letting on, so he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. “It’s alright, love,” he tells her, heart still thumping a bit at the fact that he gets to  _ call  _ her that now. “You tried; that’s what matters.” 

“Hmm,” she murmurs, not sounding like she entirely believes him. But she leans into him anyways, head dropping to his shoulder, squeezing her tight. 

“You want to get takeaway?” he asks, and she laughs, turning into him, fitting into his arms like they were made to hold her. 

“Mm,” she hums, smiling up at him. “That’s probably a good idea.” 

***

Dany has to give a speech at some point, and then her brother drags her off for royal family things, and Jon finds himself alone in the ballroom. 

Without her, the itchy discomfort of these sorts of events creeps back in. Suddenly he feels like he’s back at that party three years ago, when he’d sulked after Robb like a lost puppy who didn’t belong. 

Speaking of— Jon sees his cousin appear through the crowd, making his way towards him (and the bar to his right) and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Hey,” Robb says, eyes bright as he catches sight of Jon, changing course and heading for him instead. “What’re you doing over here alone? I thought you were supposed to be Dany’s arm candy all night.” 

Jon rolls his eyes, biting back a smile at Robb’s less-than-sober antics. “She had royal family things she needed to do. Photos, or somethin’.” 

“And you weren’t invited?” Robb asks, pulling a face. “How rude.” 

“I’m not actually a part of the royal family, y’know,” he responds, chuckling. 

Robb shrugs. “Could have fooled me, with how much bloody time you spend in King’s Landing.” 

“Well,” Jon says, but Robb cuts him off. 

“I guess I would too, if I had a girl like that,” he reasons. He gives Jon a devilish look. “I’m still  _ baffled  _ as to how you ended up dating the princess of bloody Westeros, for the record.”

“That makes two of us,” Jon says, sipping his drink, and Robb’s body shakes with laughter. 

“That speech she gave was incredible,” Robb says, and Jon nods in agreement. He’d never felt so proud as he did listening to her talk about all her nonprofit has accomplished already, and all she wants to do with it. Listening to her whisper about fantasies of founding one, and then watching her plan it out, sprawled on his couch, to  _ now,  _ when it’s a living breathing thing and she’s changing people’s lives with it— she really is the most extraordinary person he’s ever met. 

“You better not fuck it up with her, Jon,” Robb continues, and now it’s Jon’s turn to laugh. “I’m tellin’ you, she’s the best you’re ever goin’ to get.” 

He chuckles, because generally those words would imply he’s settling, but he knows Dany’s the best he’ll ever get, because there’s simply no one better than her. 

“I don’t intend on it,” he assures his cousin, heart feeling jittery with nerves again, mind flitting back to the gardens. He side-eyes Robb, suddenly needing to change the conversation, before discussion of the future makes his heart jump right out of his chest. 

“What about you and Margaery? Any luck there?” Robb groans, turning towards the bar and signalling for another drink.

“No,” he laments. “She’s still evasive as all hells. Every time I try to go talk to her, it’s like she disappears again.” 

Jon laughs at that. “You know, she and Dany are pretty good friends. She can probably talk you up, if you want.” 

Robb shakes his head, eyes disbelieving. “I might just take you up on that,” he says. “I can’t believe this. Never would I have thought that  _ you  _ would have to be my wingman.” 

“My girlfriend, you mean,” Jon corrects. Robb huffs. 

“Your  _ royal  _ girlfriend. Gods, the world really is upside down, isn’t it?” 

At that, he laughs, and Robb grins too. It’s true, this isn’t exactly how he’d always expected his life would go. But he’ll gladly take it if it means he’s with  _ her.  _

***

Jon doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dany as mad as she is now. 

They’ve had fights, over the course of their relationship. Almost two years, they’ve been together now. Of course they’ve fought. But it’s never been like this. 

He doesn’t even really remember how it started. It was probably something stupid, in all honesty— something little that set off the powder keg of frustration and anger that’s been building the past couple months. 

Jon loves Dany more than anything in the world. But that’s just the thing— for once in his bloody life, he’d like to be able to  _ tell  _ people that. 

“Stop it, Jon,” she says, voice like ice, her eyes full of fire. “Stop  _ saying  _ that.” 

“Stop saying what?” he demands hotly. His heart pounds in his chest, but this time, it’s because of the anger there. “Stop saying that I want to be able to go out in public with you?” He exhales, breath short. “That I’m fucking  _ tired  _ of sneaking around all the time like we’re children in school, not adults?” 

“Yes,  _ that,”  _ she snaps. “You make it sound like it’s so  _ easy,  _ but it’s not; you know that! We can’t just…  _ tell  _ everyone.” 

“Why not?” he shoots back. “Your brother, the bloody  _ king,  _ already knows. My cousins and my mother and my uncle know. Literally all of the important people in our lives know we’re together. So why can’t we tell everyone else?” 

She gives him a look like daggers, lips a thin line. “I really don’t want to have this fight tonight, Jon.” 

“For the love of the gods, Dany!” he says, even more frustrated. “What, are we just goin’ to pretend nothing’s wrong and keep at this for even  _ more  _ months?” She falls silent, and there’s fear in her eyes now instead of anger. 

“Why don’t you want to tell anyone?” he asks again, running a hand through his hair. His chest feels like it’s tightening, because her continued defiance on this subject— it makes him think things he shouldn’t. Makes him give voice to fears he doesn’t want to believe. 

Dany doesn’t answer, turning and sitting down on his couch. Ghost looks up at her from where he’s sitting on the other end, head cocking to the side as he studies her pained face. 

“I can’t just—” she starts, but breaks off. She sighs, head falling, eyes unreadable. “The  _ moment  _ we tell people, the press will have a bloody field day.” 

Ice settles in his chest, and one of his biggest fears presses its way back into his mind, made stronger by her admission. 

“Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks, and Dany turns and looks at him sharply, eyes full of fiery anger again. “D’you not want to be seen with the bastard of Winterfell?” 

“Are you serious?” she asks, voice hard. “You think I’m  _ ashamed  _ to be seen with you, and  _ that’s  _ why I don’t want to tell the public?” 

He sighs, fist tightening at his side, eyes boring into hers. “Well, I can’t think of any other reason you insist on keepin’ this a secret.” 

Dany lets out a laugh, but it’s humorless, cold as ice. “For fuck’s sake, Jon,” she says, standing back up. “It’s not that at  _ all.  _ Gods, you can be so dense.” The last part is almost whispered, a mutter under her breath, but he hears it anyways, jumping to his feet as well. Frustration rips at his heart, anger pumping through his chest. 

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You won’t tell me your fuckin’ reasoning!”

“I’m  _ not  _ embarrassed by you,” she says, crossing her arms. 

“Alright, then  _ why can’t we tell everyone?”  _

“Because you don’t realize what that means!” she snaps, voice rising again. “You don’t realize that the moment we go public, we are going to be plastered across every tabloid in the country. We’re not going to be able to go  _ anywhere  _ without being ambushed.  _ You’re  _ not going to be able to go anywhere without people taking pictures of you.” 

“I  _ do  _ realize that!” he snaps back. “Gods, Dany, how many times do I have to tell you  _ I don’t care?  _ I’ll deal with it if it means bein’ with you without all this sneaking around.” 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. Jon’s eyebrows furrow, eyes narrowing. 

“What do you mean,  _ no?”  _

“You don’t want that, trust me,” she says. He huffs in impatience again, ready to tear his hair out. 

“How can you be so certain that’s what I want?” Jon demands. “You seem determined not to listen to me, no matter how many times I tell you—” 

“You don’t know what you’re agreeing to, Jon, okay?” she says, and he hesitates, because she doesn’t look mad anymore. She looks— broken. Beat down. Sad. Her gorgeous eyes are dim, tears gathering in the corners of them. 

“I know you,” she says, defeated. “I know how much you value your privacy. Having people follow you around all the time and being badgered about me— it’ll drive you mad. You don’t want that.” 

He sighs, sitting down on the couch again, tugging her down next to him, hand circling her wrist. “Dany,” he says, tracing patterns into her skin. “I know that it won’t be easy. I don’t expect it to be. But I’m tryin’ to tell you it’s  _ worth  _ it for me.  _ You’re  _ worth it.” 

“Am I?” she asks, voice frail, and her eyes are swimming with tears when she looks at him this time. “They… the press is ruthless, Jon. They won’t just follow you around. They’ll dig up things on you, find out your secrets and broadcast them to the world. Not even your cousins have an idea of what it would be like to deal with the media like  _ that.”  _

“I know,” he repeats. “And believe me, I’m not lookin’ forward to it.” He’s perfectly aware of all the dirty laundry the press could air on him— the scandal surrounding his birth, the father he doesn’t even know anything about, a myriad of other things. And he hates that he has no control over it, no way to stop it. 

But the thought of being without Dany scares him even more. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she says, eyes squeezing closed, fingertips trembling. “They’ll haunt you, Jon. And then— you’ll resent me, because I’m the reason why.” 

_ Oh.  _ Then it hits him. 

Sometimes he gets so caught up in the fact that he’s still not sure how he’s dating an absolutely incredible woman who, by any standards, should be  _ wildly  _ out of his league, that he forgets Dany has fears as well. 

“Hey,” he says to her, and his arms circle her waist, tugging her into his lap. Her forehead hits his shoulder, her soft hair falling down his back, tickling his neck. It smells like lemons and exotic spice, and it’s still his favorite scent. 

“Listen to me, love,” he says, the anger completely gone from his voice now. “I know the press isn’t goin’ to be kind. I’ve considered everything that could happen. And it comes down to— I’d rather live with that and  _ you  _ than lose you. Because you know we can’t keep this a secret forever, Dany. It’ll tear us apart.” 

“I know,” she whispers into his shoulder. There’s a moment of silence, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” he asks her, stroking her back in slow, rhythmic strokes. 

“Because if you weren’t dating me, you would never have to worry about any of this.” 

He huffs. “I don’t think you asked to be born a princess. You have about as much choice in this as I do, love.” 

“That’s the thing, Jon,” she says, sitting up, and her brow is pinched again, eyes pained. “I didn’t have a choice. You  _ do.  _ You don’t have to be subjected to this.” 

He supposes it’s true, but the implied  _ if you weren’t with me  _ after her words turns his mouth to ash. 

“I don’t have a choice either,” he says. “There’s no choice here, Dany. I’m not choosin’ between you or somethin’ else. You’re always going to be what I pick.” 

“Even if photographers stalk you and call you a bastard on the front page of their magazines?” she says, and he smiles at her, small and simple. 

“Even then,” he promises, a hand cupping her cheek, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “You’re it, Dany. Whatever comes with you is just consequential.” 

“You promise you won’t hate me?” she whispers, and his heart breaks. 

“I could never hate you,” he tells her, and he means it. Never, ever, under any circumstances, could he find an ounce of hatred for her in his body. It’s just an impossibility. 

“Okay,” she whispers, and he smiles when she leans her forehead against his, nose nudging his. Jon kisses her gently, peace settling over his heart. “We can tell everyone.” He smiles against her lips, kissing her once again. 

He meant what he had said. Anything they throw at him, it’s worth it just to be able to love her like this. 

***

The party begins to wind down, music softening, lights dimming. Dany should probably be thanking people for coming, but instead she’s shirked her royal duties and is wrapped up in his arms, swaying back and forth on the dance floor. 

Sometimes Jon thinks back to the first time he’d ever attended one of these things with her  _ as her date.  _ They’d had to waltz, and he’d been so nervous he thought his heart might just leap from his chest. 

But this sort of dancing— this is easy. This is comfortable. This is just Dany, wrapped in his arms, his forehead pressed to the crown of her head and palms smoothing over her bare back as they sway aimlessly around the floor to whatever slow song the band is playing. 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. 

(Well, maybe alone with her in her chambers. Away from prying eyes. But circumstantially, this is pretty damn great too.) 

“My feet hurt,” she sighs, and Jon chuckles, thumbs stroking over the dip of her spine. 

“Probably because of those torture devices you call shoes,” he responds, and Dany huffs, hands tightening behind his neck. Her fingers absentmindedly play with his curls, body pressing in closer. 

“You haven’t sat down once all night,” he tells her, tightening his arms around her and lifting her off the ground, her feet dangling as he twirls her around slowly. “Better?” 

“Mmm,” she hums, nuzzling his nose with hers. “You’re the best.” 

He huffs drily. “I try.” 

Gently, Jon sets Dany back down on her feet, smiling as she winces a little, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. 

“You ready to escape?” she asks him, eyes glinting. Jon almost laughs, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Is that a serious question?” he asks. “I’ve been ready to escape all night, love.” He looks around the ballroom— the crowd is certainly dwindling, thinning out more and more the later it gets. “Is it alright if you leave?” 

She huffs, nudging his nose with hers. “It’s my bloody event, and I’ll do what I want,” she says, words full of fire in that way that he loves. “But yes, I think my social responsibilities have been fulfilled.” 

He smiles again, leaning down to kiss her, and Dany grins against his lips, kissing him back in a way that’s probably not appropriate for the venue. But he doesn’t really care about anything else, he finds. Things are like that a lot with Dany. 

“The gardens?” Dany asks, eyes positively sparkling, and Jon grins, his heart racing in his chest again. 

“Lead the way.” 

***

“Gods, Jon, can you at least  _ try  _ to watch where you’re stepping?” 

Arya cackles again from the couch, holding her phone at an angle that looks suspiciously like she’s filming this. “I am trying,” he insists, voice strained, eyes glued on his and Sansa’s feet. His cousin rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, nodding at Arya to start the music over. 

“Come on.  _ One  _ two three, one two three. Don’t— you’re not stepping on the beat.” 

He lets out an aggravated groan, his hands dropping from Sansa’s waist. “I’m trying,” he repeats. 

“It doesn’t look like it,” Arya says. He throws her a deathly glare, but it just makes her smile wider. 

“Alright, enough snide comments,” Sansa declares, glaring at her sister as well. “I don’t remember you being a fantastic dancer either.” 

Arya snorts. “Because dance class was a waste of my time. The last thing you’ll ever find me doing at a royal function is fuckin’  _ waltzing.”  _

“Oh, of course,” Sansa shoots back. “I forgot, you’re much more likely to be getting in fistfights with people.” 

Jon groans, dropping his head again, but Arya looks nonplussed. “Joffrey  _ deserved  _ to get punched in the nose,” she says. 

Jon happens to agree— Joffrey Baratheon is an absolute twat— but there are more pressing matters at hand here. 

“Sansa, Arya,  _ please,  _ can we focus?” he begs. “I have eight days left to learn to waltz.” 

“Why do you suddenly need to know to waltz?” Arya demands. “You’ve made it through plenty of royal parties before without needing to know how, clearly.” 

“This is my first royal function as Dany’s boyfriend, officially,” he says. “We didn’t exactly dance with each other when no one knew we were together.”  _ We were too busy sneaking off into the gardens to fuck before her guards came looking for her,  _ he thinks, but Arya doesn’t need to hear that part. 

“I still don’t think you need to know to waltz,” Arya mutters, but Sansa’s smiling at him sweetly, like his effort to not embarrass his girlfriend in front of every royal house in Westeros is the most romantic notion she’s ever heard. 

“I don’t want to look like a bloody fool,” he retorts. “Besides, her brother is already… not exactly fond of me. I can’t give him any more reason to disapprove.” 

Arya cackles again. “Our cousin, scorned by the bloody King. I never thought I’d say  _ that.”  _

Jon throws her a dark look as Sansa guides his hands back into position, leading him through the steps once again. It’s not that Rhaegar  _ hates  _ him, really. He’s just often— a little cold. A tad disapproving. He’s protective of his baby sister, Jon knows from Dany’s complaining. She’d had to fight him tooth and nail to let him found her nonprofit instead of just sticking to the normal royal outreach programs. Sometimes Jon thinks from the way the king looks at him, the older man is just waiting for him to turn tail and run. 

That’s never going to happen, though, Jon knows with certainty. Dating Dany and having everyone know about it is certainly a change for him, just like she’d said, but he’s not regretful of their decision. He’d assured her she was worth it, and he’d meant it with every fibre of his being. 

“One two three, one two three,” Sansa murmurs again, and miraculously, this time, Jon doesn’t step on her feet. 

“Hey!” she exclaims, a wide smile lighting up her face. “You did it!” 

Jon laughs, some feeling of accomplishment hitting him, and then,  _ of course,  _ he steps on Sansa’s feet again. 

Arya flops down across the couch, laughing uncontrollably. “I wouldn’t celebrate just yet, Jon,” she manages to get out. 

Jon sighs, looking at Sansa, who’s biting back a smile as well. “Again?” he asks, and his cousin nods. 

“Again.” 

***

The nighttime air is sweet, the scent of flowers drifting through the neatly manicured hedges. There are fairy lights strung around some of the hedges, ornate lamps glowing as well, but there isn’t another soul out here. 

Just the way Jon likes it. 

As soon as the glass doors of the palace disappear behind them, Dany grabs his lapels, tugging him into her and kissing him deeply, like he’s been wanting to all night. “You look fucking  _ tempting  _ in that tux,” she breathes against his lips, and Jon groans, a hand roaming down to squeeze her arse, the other banded around her waist to pull her body as close to his as possible. 

“What d’you think I’ve been thinkin’ about you in that dress all night?” he hums, and Dany tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, making him groan again. “Seven hells, Dany, are you tryin’ to destroy me?” 

“Always,” she says wickedly, but the sexual tension ebbs, and they’re both laughing instead, foreheads still pressed together. His fingers soften their grip, stroking her skin again, and Dany rises on her toes, kissing him quickly, before grabbing his hand and tugging him farther into the gardens after her. 

_ This.  _ This is what he wants forever. Just her, like this, for all the rest of his days. 

She winds her hand around his arm as they stroll through the gardens, holding her shoes in the other. He teases her for how much shorter she gets once she’s shed them, leaning over to kiss the top of her head again now that he can reach it once more. 

“I’m really proud of you,” he tells her again, and Dany turns to look at him, eyes shining softly. “I remember when you told me how you wanted to do this, that first night we met, and—” he trails off, Dany biting her lip as she tries not to smile too widely. 

“You thought I was crazy?” she asks. Jon huffs. 

“No. Never. I believed every word you said, back then. But it’s still somethin’ else to have watched you make it all come to life.” 

“You know,” she says, nudging him with her shoulder. “You still don’t give yourself  _ nearly  _ enough credit for how good you are with words.” 

He chuckles. “It’s only with you. Don’t forget what I said to that bloody pap a few months ago.” He’d completely shoved his foot in his mouth there, when he’d snapped at some photographer about something. The tabloids had run the quote for weeks on end. 

“Well, that’s all that matters to me,” she says, squeezing his arm tighter. 

It’s not long before they reach their spot, Dany smiling fondly at the bench where he’d kissed her all those years ago, at an event so like this one. She grabs his hand, tossing her shoes on the ground and tugging him over, crawling into his lap once he’s seated. 

“I love you,” she tells him, plain and simple, like it’s a universal truth, and he smiles as she leans in to kiss him again. 

Her mouth is sweet, the taste of champagne still lingering on her tongue as he strokes it with his own. Her skin is like fire underneath his palms, fingertips teasing the swags of fabric of her dress, the dangerously low back. 

He could sit here and kiss her forever, he thinks. That’s what he’d thought that first night, when he’d first tasted her lips. It still holds true three years later. 

But first— 

“Dany,” he whispers against her lips, and she hums, pulling back just a little. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, kissing her once more, sweetly, slowly, before he takes her waist, lifting her off of him and putting her back down so she’s sitting on the bench. He shifts to kneel before her, thinking of how Robb gave him shit for dirtying the knees of his borrowed suit when he’d done just this three years ago. 

Right now, he doesn’t care about the state of his clothing in the slightest. 

“I love you too,” he tells her, taking her hands, and she smiles at him, still a little breathless. “You're incredible, and talented, and determined as all hells, and I still don’t know how the fuck I got so lucky.” Dany gives him a look, eyes narrowing and a grin playing on her face, and he can tell she’s confused at this sudden baring of his soul. But then he shifts his legs so he’s on one knee, and reaches into his pocket, fingers wrapping clumsily around the box that’s been burning a hole in it all night, and then her eyes go wide in recognition. 

“You’re it for me, love,” he whispers, and Dany’s eyes are glassy, her hands coming up to her plush lips as they fall open in shock. “Now and always.” He flicks the box open with his thumb, heart hammering in his chest, practically ricocheting off his ribs. She lets out a noise that’s half a laugh and half a sob, eyes darting from the sparkling ring to his eyes, and he can feel they’re damp with tears as well. 

“Will you marry me?” he asks her, and his entire chest constricts, waiting for her answer. 

She laughs, a tear spilling over and tracing down her cheek, already nodding before she manages to speak.  _ “Yes,” _ she whispers, reaching for him, and Jon grins too, meeting her halfway. 

His heart settles back into place as he kisses her, the ring box still clutched in his hand, the other splaying across her back. They break away a moment later, both of them grinning uncontrollably and his eyes get misty again as Dany offers him her left hand, letting him slide the ring onto her finger. It looks perfect there, like it was made just for her. 

“It’s beautiful, Jon,” she murmurs, looking up at him with those big eyes again, crinkling at the corners with happiness. He leans in and kisses her once again, unable to resist. 

“You’re beautiful,” he echoes, and she laughs at him. Then another stroke of recognition crosses her face, and her eyes light up. 

“Oh my gods, is  _ this  _ why Rhaegar was suddenly being so diplomatic whenever I mentioned you?” she asks, and Jon laughs, nodding. “I was wondering why he’d gotten so much less cynical about you.” 

“I think he’s been waitin’ this whole time for me to change my mind and run,” Jon admits, and Dany huffs, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think he thought I’d last in this world.” 

“No matter how many times I told him you’d never do that,” she says, eyes trained on her new engagement ring once again. “Well, I’m glad he finally came to that realization.” 

“Aye, me as well,” Jon murmurs, and he can’t help it, he’s leaning in again to kiss her. 

Dany melts into his arms, hands bunching in his shirt, letting him tug her off the bench and flush against his body. His tongue explores her mouth expertly, a shudder of pleasure running through him as she rakes her nails gently against his scalp, sighing into his lips. 

The fabric of her dress rustles against his palms again, and it’s too hard to resist— she’s too damn beautiful, and he’s been restraining himself far too long tonight. Dany’s kiss grows equally hungry, her hands beginning to roam at the same time his do, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and running over the taut muscles of his back. 

“Jon,” she gasps against his lips, and he knows that needy, keening sound in her voice. Knows what it means before she even says the words. “I want you inside me,” she whispers, and she doesn’t have to ask twice. 

He gathers her arse in his hands, scooping her up into the air as her legs lock around his waist, her beautiful dress bunched around her hips. There’s an artful brick wall across the path, and he walks her over to it, kissing her deeply the whole time, this move so practiced that he doesn’t even need to look where he’s going. 

Dany lets out a breathy moan as she grinds herself down against his rapidly hardening length, fingers tugging his tuxedo shirt free, raking up his abs underneath the fabric. His lips turn to her jawline, her clavicle, nudging the low cut neckline of her dress out of the way so he can suck at the smooth skin of her perfect breasts. She shudders under his attentions, head falling back against the stone, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, Dany,” he moans against her skin, because her fingers are fumbling with his fly, tugging his pants open. Her hands close around his cock, her palms like fire as they stroke up and down, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from yelling loud enough that someone will hear. 

“That’s the plan,” she whispers in his ear, nipping at the lobe with her teeth, and he presses her back against the wall, letting it bear some of her weight so he can get a hand underneath her skirt. Her flimsy lace panties are already soaked, but he pushes them out of the way, tracing up her slit and finding her clit, circling it with his thumb as she shakes in his arms. 

“Gods, Jon,  _ please,”  _ she begs, and he kisses her again fiercely, lining himself up and sliding into her glorious tight heat. 

It feels like coming home in the best way. 

Every single time he’s been with her, it feels just like it did that first night three years ago. Electrifying. World-shattering. Completely and utterly right. 

She comes right before he does, nails digging into his shoulders as he eases her through it, his tongue sliding against hers. They’re both breathless when they finally come down from their highs, Jon’s sweaty forehead pressed to hers. 

They linger there for a moment, hovering in each others’ spaces for as long as they can, before Jon grins again, remembering that even if they eventually have to go back to the party, even if  _ this  _ night has to end, they’ve got the rest of their lives for moments like this. 

“What are you thinking?” Dany murmurs, lips brushing his. Gently, they disentangle themselves, Jon adjusting his pants as Dany smooths out her skirt. 

“Truthfully?” he asks, and she nods. He leans down to kiss her again, taking her hands once her dress is righted. 

“I was thinkin’... that I am so fuckin’ glad your brother pissed you off that night three years ago.”

Dany laughs, leaning into his chest, and his when his arms circle hers, everything just feels so right. 

“Me too,” she whispers. He looks down at her hand on his chest, the fairy lights of the garden making the diamond sparkle. 

And with that, she takes his hand, and leads him back into the party. 


End file.
